As Told by a Dursley
by Elouera
Summary: The first chapter or so of Socerer's Stone in Vernon Dursley's POV. oneshot


As Told by a Dursley 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR, all of my ideas I owe to her.

Summary: This is a story that takes place from the beginning of Sorcerer's Stone, until Harry Potter arrives on the front step of 4 Privet Drive, as told by Vernon Dursley.

Dudley is such a little tyke. He is just like his daddy, he loves his food. He knows what he wants; you can't stop him from throwing a fit if 'Tunia tries to give him something he doesn't want. He's coming along exactly the way I wanted.

I am so mad. As I was driving to the factory this morning I actually saw a _cat reading a street map_. No, no, no, no! I didn't. It must have been a trick of the light. But then when I got stuck in the traffic jam I saw bunches of people walking around in cloaks. The bloody new trends teenagers come up with these days! It could be a sign, though. Funny things are happening. Funny people. Funny animals. I swear I saw an _owl_ this morning. An OWL! Owls don't fly at day!

I hate work. I work at Grunnings Drills. I get a good pay, so there isn't anything I shouldn't like, but my employees, or servants as I like to refer to them, are incredibly disobedient. Just this morning Martha came into my office with pumpkin coffee, when she _knows_ that I will only drink Hazelnut. She's been working for me for _seven years_, for His sake!

Funny people. I saw an old man in one of those huddles of funny people. AN OLD MAN! He has no right to join into one of those bloody new trends. NO RIGHT! I had just gone across the street at lunch to get three jelly donuts and a bagel with cinnamon cream cheese at lunch when I heard the funny people talking. I swear I heard the name "Harry Potter".

This isn't good. I can't tell Petunia. She'll flip out. You see, she has a sister. She just pretends she doesn't. Her sister… she's well… funny. She has this… magic thing. When she turned eleven she went off to this school of magic, and she married some… funny man. She ran off with him once she was seventeen and got pregnant and had a son. His name was Harold, or Harry, or Hank, or something; all I really know is that his last name was Potter. I can't tell Petunia. She'll flip out.

That cat was sitting on the wall next to my house when I got home today, the cat that WASN'T reading the street map. I shouted at it and threw a stick at it, but it didn't leave, it just stared at me. I swear there is something human about that cat. Whatever it is, it's… funny.

The nightly news is getting weirder and weirder. Tonight it said that in Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee didn't get the promised rainfall, they got a downfall of shooting stars! That's just… funny. And there have been repeated owl reports. Owls swooping out of nowhere. That doesn't make any sense! Owls are nocturnal, for His sake! I had to tell Petunia. Our conversation went like this:

Me: "Funny stuff on the news. Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"

Her: "_So?_"

Me: "Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… _her_ crowd.

Their son- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

Her: "I suppose so."

Me: "What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

Her: "Harry. Nasty, common name if you ask me."

Me: "Oh yes, yes I quite agree."

It was horrible. I absolutely could _not_ tell her that I had heard "Harry Potter" whispered numerous times today. That would have disastrous results.

I couldn't sleep. I laid awake, pretending to be asleep until 'Tunia was sleeping soundly. Then, I got up and stood half hidden by the window shade. I had the light off, so I could easily see outside. That bloody cat was still sitting on the wall, in the exact same position that it was before.

I stood there for awhile until I started dozing off. I sat down in my easy chair to think. But a couple seconds later I stood up again because the familiar shine of the street lamps had stopped coming through the window.

I had to squint in order to see anything in such absolute darkness, but what I did see was unmistakable. An old man appeared at the end of the street and stole the light out of each lamp with a cigarette lighter. He was one of the funny ones. He had a long cloak on, and his beard was silver as the moon and it was so long he had it tucked into his belt.

I don't like the funny ones. I was standing there thinking all the bad things I could about those… funny… people when the cat turned into a woman. After that happened I decided that I was simply too tired and I went to bed.

I slept abnormally late that morning. I didn't end up going to work either. I was woken up at about 8:30 by Petunia's scream. I was up in a flash and ran downstairs to find Petunia with the door open looking down at the steps.

On them was a positively screaming baby with jet black hair and a lightning bolt on his forehead. Petunia picked him up hushed him, and unwrapped him from his blanket.

Inside his blanket was a note.

It read:

Dear Dursley Family,

I am entrusting this letter unto you in the hopes that you will pass it on to Harry when he is old enough to read it. Harry is now an orphan. James and Lily were murdered ruthlessly by the most evil and horrid wizard of al time: Lord Voldemort. You are the only family he has, so you must take care of him until the date of September 1st in the year in which Harry is eleven. He will then be accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. On that year he will go to Hogwarts and you will only have to take him in for the summer over the next seven years. He is a full-blood wizard, he has magic running through is veins. When the time comes he will leave your world for the magical one. I only hope that before that time comes he is fully informed so that he is slightly prepared for what is coming. It was him that caused the downfall of the most horrible wizard of all time. Harry Potter is a hero in my world. His name will be known by all. You have to prepare him for this. Remember, he is in dire danger if he cannot call a place in which his blood resides home. Keep him healthy and informed. His future as a wizard relies on you. I am trusting you.

Yours until Harry is eleven,

AlbusDumbledore

I WILL NOT HAVE THIS! There will _not_ be any funny business going on under my roof, no way, no how! We will stamp this out of him, we will. If he is not happy, if we spoil Dudley and let Harry sleep in the cupboard, he won't have the energy for magic. He won't, no he won't. I will make sure of that. He will be like a slave. He will be problemed. Disturbed. I WON'T HAVE THIS!

A/N: How very wrong Vernon was. _Sigh_ HaHa

A/N again: I would like to thank Caroline for being my best friend and helping inspire me, and Miss P. (soon to be Ms. B) for reading my story through and making suggestions.


End file.
